


My Hero

by drowninyourmemory



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Did I mention fluff?, Fluff, M/M, Stony - Freeform, Tony's POV, Tony's childhood, dedicated to Khan, lots of fluff, set around The Avengers and after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninyourmemory/pseuds/drowninyourmemory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always been my hero. From the time that I was young and my father would tell me stories about the Super Soldier, I've been a little bit in love with the idea surrounding Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted a sweet fic from Tony's perspective (of course) about how he felt about Rogers and, well, this happened. This is also a gift for my lovely RP partner and friend, so. Yay for that. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy~!

He's always been my hero. From the time that I was young and my father would tell me stories about the Super Soldier, I've been a little bit in love with the idea surrounding Captain America. He just seemed like a great guy. He had a strong heart, a fighter's spirit, and yet still managed to be nothing but a sweetheart. I wanted to be like him as a kid.

And when my dad started changing and my mom didn't know how to handle it, he was the one thing that got me through it. I would sit in my bedroom with all of my posters and my action figures and would talk to them like they were my best friends. Because, to be honest, at that age they were. /He/ was. This concept of a man who had, at one point in history, been a beacon of hope for a despairing nation was exactly what I needed to get through my childhood.

Then my young adult life happened. Obviously I couldn't have posters and such of my hero anymore, but I kept them all in my old bedroom. A room that, to this day, I don't let anyone go into. He still meant just as much to me, but I had to be secretive about it.

You can imagine my surprise (and embarrassingly obvious delight) when I heard that he'd been found. Had I had a hand in that? A small one, yes. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that he was found, and somehow, Rogers survived.

He survived.  
I was going to meet my hero.  
Oh God.

I'll never forget that moment. I was nervous, I'll admit. Walking into the room that I knew he would be in was exhilarating and surreal. My entire life had been spent basically worshipping the ground this guy walked on. My father was obsessed with him. His little project.

I was obsessed too, but on a completely different level.

My first thought, after the initial freak out moment of "holy shit it's Captain America," was that this man was unfairly attractive.

The second was that he really irritated me.

It's safe to say that for a while after we first met, we were at each other's throats for one reason or another. Get both of us in a room and we wouldn't stop arguing. Which, yeah, that sucked. This guy was my /hero/ for crying out loud!

Nope. He hated me.  
Figures.

Still, there was some part of me for the longest time that still felt light and airy whenever he would walk into the room. My initial reaction to seeing him was always to smile, because whether he believed it or not, I really liked the guy. He was charming and endearing and strong. Very strong. Honestly, I'm glad Fury more or less put him in charge of us, because I would follow him anywhere. I'd do anything if he only asked.

Of course, I'd never say something like that. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.

Everything changed the moment the aliens attacked New York.

He didn't think I had what it took to be the hero. He didn't think I was selfless enough. So many criticisms flew through my head as I made a beeline for the wormhole. His voice, telling me I couldn't do it.

Oh, really?  
Watch this.

I was convinced I would die up there. I can't even begin to describe the things I saw. What I felt. It scared me to my core, and I still haven't gotten over it. But before I knew it, I was free falling. Faster and faster, down towards the ground. I must have passed out, because I don't remember being caught or how I ended up laying on the ground.

He was my biggest rival. He challenged me, pushed me beyond my breaking point. At times I despised him for it. Others, like now, I almost loved him for it.

Almost.

When I opened my eyes and my vision focused enough to recognise what I was looking at, I felt that light and airy feeling in the pit of my stomach again. It was him. He was watching me with a relieved look in his eye and a soft smile on his lips. He let out a sigh, one that made it appear that he had been holding his breath.

He was kneeling right beside me. Why?

"Please tell me no one kissed me."

A chuckle. Good. Glad I could lighten the mood. Break the tension. /Something/.

My God, he was unfairly attractive.

That feeling I had when I woke up and saw him leaning over me intensified every time I saw him after that. We didn't bicker nearly as much anymore, which was good. I felt like I had his respect now. Can you even imagine what it's like to have the respect of someone you put on a pedestal from the time you were in any way cognizant?

It was a feeling like no other. Every smile directed at me made me feel like I was flying in a brand new suit. It gave me the same kind of rush.

When the nightmares and the anxiety problems began surfacing more and more, I found that he hung around my floor of the tower in correlation with them. I had a particularly rough night one night, about four months after the incident, and I woke up to find him seated on the bed beside me, gently stroking my hair.

I wasn't angry he'd come into my room. I wasn't ashamed that he found me in such a state. Instead, I begged him not to leave.

He still hasn't.

He was my hero. He /is/ my hero. Ever since childhood, I've idolized Steve Rogers. That's why when he asked me one night, when it was just the two of us in my lab, if he could spend the rest of his life making me feel as special and as cherished as I did him, well... I couldn't believe it.

Of course I said yes. 

He's my hero. I would do anything for him, if he only asked.


End file.
